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University of Nebraska - LincolnDigitalCommons@University of Nebraska - LincolnUniversity of Nebraska Press -- Sample Books andChapters University of Nebraska Press
2017
Conquering SicknessMark Allan Goldberg
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Early American Places is a collaborative project of the
University of Georgia Press, New York University Press,
Northern Illinois University Press, and the University of
Nebraska Press. The series is supported by the Andrew
W. Mellon Foundation. For more information, please visit
www.earlyamericanplaces.org.
Advisory Board
Vincent Brown, Duke University
Andrew Cayton, Miami University
Cornelia Hughes Dayton, University of Connecticut
Nicole Eustace, New York University
Amy S. Greenberg, Pennsylvania State University
Ramón A. Gutiérrez, University of Chicago
Peter Charles Hoffer, University of Georgia
Karen Ordahl Kupperman, New York University
Joshua Piker, College of William & Mary
Mark M. Smith, University of South Carolina
Rosemarie Zagarri, George Mason University
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B orderl ands and Transcultural Studies
Series Editors Pekka Hämäläinen, Paul Spickard
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Conquering SicknessRace, Health, and Colonization
in the Texas Borderlands
mark allan goldberg
University of Nebraska PressLincoln and London
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© 2016 by the Board of Regents of the University of Nebraska
All rights reserved
Manufactured in the United States of America
Library of Congress Control Number: 2016953451
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For Lisa, Leo, and Sylvie
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Contents
List of Illustrations xi
Acknowledgments xiii
A Note on Racial and Ethnic Terminology xvii
Introduction 1
1 Medicine and Spanish Conquest: Health and Healing
in Late Colonial Texas 16
2 The Health of the Missions: Spanish Friars, Coastal
Indians, and Missionization in the Gulf Coast 40
3 Cholera and Nation: Epidemic Disease, Healing,
and State Formation in Northern Mexico 67
4 Making Healthy American Settlements: U.S. Expansion
and Anglo- American, Comanche, and Black Slave Health 98
5 Healthy Anglos, Unhealthy Mexicans: Health, Race,
and Medicine in South Texas 132
Epilogue 163
Notes 171
Bibliography 199
Index 225
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Illustrations
Map of eighteenth- and nineteenth- century
Texas- Mexico borderlands xxi
Figures
1. Comanche family 36
2. Comanche warriors 37
3. Karankawa man and woman 48
4. Map of Coahuila y Texas, 1833 62
5. Map of global diseases, 1830s 77
6. Ignacio Sendejas’s Metodo Curativo 85
7. Map of Texas, 1855 107
8. Assistant Surgeon Ebenezer Swift’s Comanche measurements 113
9. Map of the U.S.- Mexico borderlands, 1857 149
10. Tlachiquero 154
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Acknowledgments
The road to this point has been, to quote a famous musician, a long and
winding one. Along the way, a number of people and organizations
offered intellectual and emotional support and helped me find my path.
This book would not exist without them.
Several institutions gave me financial support to conduct my research
and write this book. The University of Wisconsin– Madison funded my
research in the early stages. The Texas State Historical Association, the
Colonial Dames of America in the State of Wisconsin, the Recovering the
U.S. Hispanic Literary Heritage Project, the Doris G. Quinn Foundation,
and the University of Houston also supported my research and writing.
I am indebted to numerous librarians and archivists, who helped me
wade through pools of eighteenth- and nineteenth- century documents.
I would not have been able to find my way through the collections at
the Archivo General del Estado de Coahuila without the assistance of
Lucas Martínez Sánchez, the director of the archive, and the staff, Clau-
dia Elizalde Herrera, Linda Rosa Castillo André, and Elizabeth Ramírez
Rendón. I am grateful to the research staffs at the Briscoe Center for
American History (bcah), the Benson Latin American Collection, the
Béxar County Clerk Spanish Archives, the Catholic Archives of Texas,
and the Texas General Land Office. At the bcah, Margaret Schlankey
and Sarah Cleary, in particular, helped me navigate the archives. And
John Wheat, the archives translator and fellow scholar of colonial Texas,
offered his expertise as I worked through eighteenth- and nineteenth-
century Spanish script.
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xiv / acknowledgments
This project began as a dissertation at the University of Wisconsin–
Madison, where several generous mentors guided me along the way. I
benefited from working with a number of wonderful professors: Ned
Blackhawk, Steve Kantrowitz, Neil Kodesh, Florencia Mallon, Ron
Numbers, and Jim Sweet. From the beginning of my graduate career,
Camille Guérin- Gonzales offered her unconditional support. Her
feedback helped me immensely in the transition to a manuscript. She
is sorely missed. I cannot thank my graduate advisor, Susan Johnson,
enough for her direction. Her humility and her unwavering encourage-
ment and patience not only taught me how to be a scholar but also how
to be a writer, a teacher, and a mentor. She is a special person and a gentle
soul, and I am grateful for her guidance.
My colleagues at the University of Houston have made me feel at
home from the moment I arrived. Monica Perales and Raúl Ramos have
supported my work since before I came to uh, and they have provided
much insight and feedback on drafts along the way. I cannot thank Rick
Mizelle, Todd Romero, Jimmy Schafer, and Nancy Beck Young enough
for poring over multiple drafts and engaging in numerous conversations
about this project. Sue Kellogg has also been generous with her time,
offering comments on drafts. I appreciate the support of colleagues Mat-
thew Clavin, Elizabeth Farfan- Santos, Sarah Fishman, John Hart, José
Angel Hernández, Marie- Theresa Hernández, Frank Holt, Philip How-
ard, Karl Ittman, Kairn Klieman, Natalia Milanesio, Cathy Patterson,
Linda Reed, Guadalupe San Miguel, Abed Takriti, Eric Walther, Kristin
Wintersteen, and Leandra Zarnow. I would also like to thank partici-
pants of the uh Center for Public History colloquium, who offered valu-
able comments when I workshopped a chapter. I am grateful to Joshua
Been, another uh colleague, for his hard work on the map of the Texas-
Mexico borderlands that appears at the beginning of the book. James
Brooks, Bonnie Martin, Andrew Graybill, and my fellow participants
at the William P. Clements Center for Southwest Studies symposium,
Uniting the Histories of Slavery in North America and Its Borderlands,
have helped mold this project. I have benefited greatly from friends and
colleagues outside of Houston: Kathy Brosnan, Paul Conrad, Jerome
Dotson, Jim Downs, Martha Few, Jennifer Holland, Ben Johnson, Paul
Kelton, Adam Malka, Natalia Molina, John Mckiernan- González, Ryan
Quintana, Tyina Steptoe, Omar Valerio- Jiménez, and Alberto Varon.
I am especially grateful for John and Omar, who have been incredibly
supportive since my grad school days, and for Alberto, my oldest friend
and fellow borderlands scholar. Finally, the anonymous reviewers at the
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acknowledgments / xv
University of Nebraska Press supplied incredibly helpful comments and
direction, helping me conceptualize this story about health and healing
in the borderlands.
During my graduate training in Madison, much of my learning
occurred outside of class. In conversations at coffee shops, libraries, res-
taurants, people’s homes, and outside on walks, my friends challenged
me, helped me work through ideas, read through my materials, and
made my years in Wisconsin memorable. I would like to thank Jerome
Dotson, Dave Gilbert, Kori Graves, Marc Hertzman, Michel Hogue,
Jennifer Holland, Charles Hughes, Ryan Quintana, Stacey Smith, Tyina
Steptoe, Maia Surdam, Stephanie Westcott, Tom Yoshikami, and Zoë
van Orsdol. Their warmth and friendship propelled me forward.
Several people at the University of Nebraska Press have helped make
this book come to fruition. I want to thank Matt Bokovoy, who has been
incredibly supportive from the beginning and provided much kindness
along the way. I am also grateful for Pekka Hämäläinen and Paul Spick-
ard, who invited me into unp’s wonderful Borderlands and Transcul-
tural Studies series. Pekka also generously offered helpful feedback and
encouragement throughout the process. I appreciate the hard work of the
University of Nebraska Press staff, especially Heather Stauffer. I would
like to thank my copyeditor Elaine Otto, Tish Fobben, and Ann Baker,
who patiently guided me through the publishing process.
When I traveled to conduct research in Saltillo, Monterrey, and San
Antonio, I was fortunate to reconnect with family and make new friends.
Before I went to Saltillo, I did not know a soul there. Fortunately, my
relatives put me in contact with a family. On both of my trips, Enrique
and Guadalupe Gonzalez offered me a place to stay, incredible hospital-
ity, and delicious home- cooked meals. I took home some great research
finds from Coahuila as well as some delicious new recipes. My family in
Monterrey helped make my time there unforgettable. I was lucky to get
to know the norteño branch of the Goldberg clan. My aunt and uncle,
Anita and Aaron Goldberg, made a trip to San Antonio possible. In addi-
tion to the great company, they offered a delicious culinary experience,
as always.
All of my extended family has also been a part of this journey. I would
like to thank my uncle, Boris Gerson, in particular, who is an inspira-
tion. He has always pushed me to ask new questions, and whenever I had
doubts, he was there to remind me of the importance of historical inquiry.
My four grandparents were Jewish refugees from Eastern Europe, and
they immigrated to Mexico in the late 1920s. Their life experiences have
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xvi / acknowledgments
influenced my work in various ways. My paternal grandparents, Manuel
and Susana Goldberg (or, as I knew them, Zeide and Bobe), were adoles-
cents when they left Europe. Learning about how they melded Mexican
and Jewish practices has helped me understand the relationship among
culture, ethnicity, and nation. I never got to know my maternal grand-
father, Pedro “Peisi” Gerson, but through my family and community’s
memory, I have learned what kind of person he was. His legacy to me
has been a commitment to community, education, and justice. I feel very
fortunate that my maternal grandmother, Ana Gerson, is still with us,
and she, too, has offered immeasurable emotional support. Every time
we talk, she wants an update on my work. My in- laws are all incredibly
warm and caring individuals who welcomed me into their family with
wide- open arms. They have never wavered in their support.
My immediate family has been behind me throughout this long jour-
ney. My sister and brother- in- law, Michelle Goldberg and Ron Moses,
and my niece and nephews, Maya, Zev, and Avi, have brought enthusi-
asm and humor throughout this process. I do not know where I would be
without the love and encouragement of my parents, Jacobo and Raquel
Goldberg. As long as I can remember, they have emphasized the impor-
tance of the past, of knowing where our family came from. This became
a lesson that is fundamental to my work. By recounting the family’s sto-
ries, they exposed me to multiple narratives of the past and showed me
that history was not always found in textbooks or in museums. My par-
ents conveyed to me that history is unstable and unresolved. They, too,
have stressed the importance of education, community, and identity, and
they have been there every step of the way.
In our first year in Madison, Lisa and I rescued our dog, Sadie, from a
small shelter in Baraboo, Wisconsin. Even though I did not always real-
ize it in the moment, I am grateful to Sadie for forcing me to take breaks
and go on walks, a critical part of writing. I often worked from home,
so Sadie literally stayed by my side as this project unfolded. My beloved
partner, Lisa, has read many drafts, listened to numerous presentations,
and engaged in countless historical conversations. She probably knows
more than she wants to know about borderlands history. She has shown
me that love has no limits, something that has carried me through this
entire process. While this project developed, Leo and Sylvie came into
our lives, and they have brought us joy every moment since then. They
bring light wherever they go. It is to Lisa, Leo, and Sylvie that I dedicate
this work.
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A Note on Racial and Ethnic Terminology
Because Texas was a meeting place for diverse peoples in the eighteenth
and nineteenth centuries, I employ a range of racial and ethnic termi-
nology in this study. When possible, I use the terms that subjects of this
study used to describe themselves. However, the primary sources on
which I rely do not always allow me to do so. This study assumes that
race is a historical and social creation in which individuals are positioned
and position themselves as belonging to particular groups. This process
of racialization is ideologically driven, such that some social categories
(white, Spanish) historically have been seen as normative while other
categories (black, Indian) have been marked as exceptional and inferior.
As a result, racial and ethnic labels are rarely adequate in fully explain-
ing how people experienced the past and conceived of themselves.
For the Spanish era, I use the terms “Spanish” and “Spaniard” to
describe subjects of the crown who claimed Spanish descent. Because
these labels derive from the ways that individuals related to their con-
temporaries, “Spanish” also refers to colonial subjects who differentiated
themselves from Native peoples. According to colonial officials, mis-
sionaries, and ordinary Spanish colonists, Indians who did not practice
Catholicism and did not adopt Spanish customs were not Spanish. In
New Spain, Spanish men greatly outnumbered Spanish women. These
men often had sex with indigenous women, doing so along a continuum
that ranged from rape to lasting intimate relationships, including mar-
riage. By the mid- seventeenth century, mestizos, or people of mixed
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xviii / a note on racial and ethnic terminology
Spanish Indian parentage, outnumbered Spaniards in New Spain.1 In
addition, slave traders brought some 200,000 Africans into New Spain
during the colonial era.2 Concerned with race and status, the Spanish
developed a casta system that delineated racial categories, including the
mixed progeny of españoles (Spaniards), indios (Indians), and negros
(blacks). In northern New Spain, the most popular label for people of
Spanish descent was “Spaniard,” even though most people who claimed
this term for themselves were probably mixed race. This reflected the
demography of the frontier, where the Spanish population was small,
where both intercultural relationships and sexual violence were frequent,
and, as a result, where racial identities were more fluid.
Following Mexican independence in 1821, the use of the label “Span-
iard” declined. In Mexican Texas, individuals sometimes claimed
more than one racial- ethnic identifier, such as Mexican, mestizo,
Spanish, and Tejano (Mexican Texan), depending on the context.3 I
use the term “Spanish Mexican” to describe people in the immediate
post- independence period in Mexico, since national identities changed
gradually during the transition from Spanish colony to Mexican nation-
state. In 1820s Texas, Spanish Mexicans began to assert their ethnic-
ity in relation to the growing English- speaking, U.S.- born population.
According to Mexico’s colonization law, these newcomers had to become
naturalized citizens, so both they and their Spanish Mexican neighbors
technically were Mexican nationals. Spanish Mexicans, therefore, began
to differentiate themselves ethnically from U.S. immigrants, embracing
a Tejana/o identity.4 The words “Tejana” and “Tejano,” moreover, denote
the local character of Mexican national and ethnic identity; my use of
the terms reflects this historical reality. Finally, I use the term “Mexican
American” to refer to U.S. legal citizens of Mexican descent and “ethnic
Mexican” to refer to all Mexicans regardless of their legal citizenship
status.5 The U.S.- Mexico border was ambiguous and in flux during much
of the period under study, and borderland cultures were hybrids that
incorporated values and practices from the diverse residents of both the
United States and Mexico. Even when the two nations defined a bound-
ary in the mid- nineteenth century, peoples and ideas continued to cross
that border. Thus I employ the term “ethnic Mexican” particularly when
examining cross- cultural exchanges that transcended national borders.
I also employ a variety of terms to refer to the indigenous peoples
of Texas. My use of ethnohistorical methods to recover Native history
from European and European American sources shapes the racial and
ethnic terminology for this study. With an eye to the limitations of this
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a note on racial and ethnic terminology / xix
methodology, I refer to Native peoples in the ways that the sources suggest
they referred to themselves— for example, as Comanches, Karankawas,
Apaches, Caddos, and Xaranames. Such labels are also ethnic constructs,
for these were not closed communities. The existence of a substantial
mestizo population demonstrates that racial mixing occurred frequently
in the region. Moreover, Comanches often incorporated non- Comanche
captives into their bands, creating multiethnic communities. Sometimes
I examine Native peoples in the aggregate— for example, when I explore
Spanish, Mexican, or U.S. Indian policy. In such cases, I use the terms
“Native peoples,” “indigenous peoples,” and “Indians” interchangeably.
When I speak of white, English- speaking migrants to Texas from
the United States, I most often use the term “Anglo.” The word “Anglo”
is short for “Anglo- American,” a term that since the late eighteenth
century has sometimes been used to distinguish U.S.- born whites
from American Indians and later (and more commonly now) from
ethnic Mexicans. “Anglo- American” is closely associated with a racial
term popular among nineteenth- century white Americans of Eng-
lish and Germanic roots: “Anglo- Saxon.” Anglo- Saxon racial ideol-
ogy shaped ideas of U.S. exceptionalism and Manifest Destiny.6 But
“Anglo- American” and “Anglo- Saxon” are not identical in meaning,
nor do they share exactly the same history. I use the terms “Anglo”
and “Anglo- American” in a broadly descriptive sense and especially in
opposition to terms like “Spanish Mexican” and “Mexican American.”
I do not use the word “Anglo” narrowly to refer to people of English
descent. Though it is a term that rests uneasily when applied to some
European immigrants and European Americans, it is nonetheless his-
torically descriptive of a racialized divide that developed in Texas and
the rest of the U.S. Southwest as English- speaking whites poured in and
worked to establish dominance over ethnic Mexicans. But whiteness
was complicated and contested in eighteenth- and nineteenth- century
Texas. I occasionally use the term “white” to refer to the position of
elite Spaniards in the colonial socioracial hierarchy, and some ethnic
Mexicans claimed whiteness but still experienced social, political, and
economic marginalization. When Anglos first arrived in Texas in the
1820s and 1830s, moreover, Anglo elites developed a mutually ben-
eficial relationship with Tejana/o elites that blurred racial and ethnic
boundaries.7 Whiteness was central to Anglo identity. But when ana-
lyzing race relations, I mostly use “Anglo” instead of “white” because
of its historical resonance in Texas and the Southwest. Whiteness
alone— because some elite and light- skinned Mexicans could claim it,
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xx / a note on racial and ethnic terminology
at least provisionally— did not determine power and prestige in mid-
nineteenth- century Texas.8
People of African descent, by contrast, could virtually never claim the
privileges of whiteness. Historians of the African diaspora have shown
us that African Americans constituted an ethnically diverse group.9
During the colonial era, the African slave trade in New Spain and Brit-
ish America helped create what Gary Nash calls “mestizo America.”10
The black population in Spanish Texas, however, was small. By the nine-
teenth century, most people of African descent who lived in Texas had
come as slaves from the southern United States or through the domes-
tic slave trade, and a small percentage came through the illegal African
trade. Southern blacks descended from a variety of African- origin peo-
ples as well as from mixing with Europeans, European Americans, and
Native peoples and, of course, among themselves. Despite this diversity,
however, the one- drop rule of U.S. southern racial ideology reinforced
an idea of monolithic blackness, which is evident in nineteenth- century
Anglo- American sources.11 I also reference the Works Progress Admin-
istration slave narratives, which were shaped by twentieth- century U.S.
racial tropes. Nevertheless, I use the terms “African American” and
“black” to refer to people of African descent in Texas.
All racial and ethnic terminology is a product of history and hence
by definition is not only unstable but also caught up in systems of hier-
archy. The terms I employ, nonetheless, reflect ways that diverse peoples
constructed identities in relation to others. And while imagined, the
boundaries that Texas residents created to separate themselves from
their neighbors produced real consequences.
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Eighteenth- and nineteenth- century Texas- Mexico borderlands. Map by
Joshua Been.
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Recommended